


Again and Again

by makethestorylast



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Bill is the ultimate supportive friend/lover, Confessions, Emma's gaydar >>>>>>, M/M, listen i say Bill Rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25254466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makethestorylast/pseuds/makethestorylast
Summary: There's nothing like the apocalypse to force you into questioning your sexuality.
Relationships: Bill/Paul Matthews, Paul Matthews & Emma Perkins
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Again and Again

**Author's Note:**

> CW // Anxiety attack, mention of death

It was the apocalypse. It was the _fucking_ apocalypse. Singing alien zombies were dancing around outside, singing in perfect harmony to music no one else could hear, and all of the survivors could be dead in an hour.

And what was Paul doing?

Restraining himself before he did something stupid.

Not go outside. No, he’d already done that, riding shotgun in the squad car on a suicide mission to save his goddaughter. And it worked. Alice and Bill were on the couch, Alice asleep on Bill’s shoulder, and from the look of it, he wasn’t moving any time soon. And yeah, they were all a little banged up, but they were safe, _Alice_ was safe. That’s all that mattered, right?

So why the hell was Paul staring at them?

Not them. _Him._

Because the _fucking apocalypse_ is the perfect time to confront your repressed sexuality and feelings for your best friend!

Paul stood up from his chair in the kitchen and made his way downstairs, deliberately looking away from the couch and praying that someone was still up.

He found Emma sprawled out on the futon in the basement, fast-forwarding through the features of whatever movie she found in the professor’s stash. She must’ve heard him come down because she paused the movie and twisted around to see him.

“Hey,” he muttered. She shifted to make room, so he joined her, sinking into the cushions with a sigh.

“Fucking apocalypse, huh?”

“Oh, uh… yeah.” He didn’t exactly know what to say. He intended to find someone to vent to, but… well, maybe the person he tried to fall in love with to convince himself he was straight wasn’t the person to talk to about this.

“Alright, what’s up with you?”

“What?”

“Something’s bothering you. So, spill.” She waved her hand vaguely, motioning for him to talk.

“It’s nothing.” This was stupid. Why was he here? He should go to bed. Maybe this would all make sense in the morning. Maybe he would be straight in the morning.

“Dude, are you having a fuckin’ existential crisis or something?”

Paul rubbed the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

Emma sat up, turned to face him, and gave him a once over. She clicked her tongue.

“Got it.”

“Huh?”

“I know what’s fucking with you.” She jabbed a finger in the center of his chest. “You, Mr. Matthews, are gay as shit.”

“No, I—I’m not… What?” He stammered weakly. Emma leaned back, satisfied with his answer.

“It’s Bill, isn’t it?”

...How the _FUCK?_

“I don’t… I don’t know what you mean.” He knew exactly what she meant, but how did she know? Was it that obvious? No, no, no. She doesn’t know anything. This is all just… He’s tired. Exhausted. He nearly died today, his nerves are frazzled, he just needs a good night’s sleep and everything will be back to normal.

“I saw you giving him heart eyes the second you got back. Don’t lie to me, bitch.” She pulled out her phone and started scrolling. “Huh, wi-fi is still up.”

Paul wasn’t going to complain about the change of topic. Emma unpaused the movie and turned it down a bit. It was good background noise for his thoughts. And so he let them wander, wander between the apocalypse, Bill, how happy he was that Alice was safe, how happy he was that Bill was safe, if he’d ever be back in the office, if Mr. Davidson’s wife was okay (don’t think about that, _don’t think about that),_ Bill, Bill’s smile, Bill’s eyes…

No. _No._ But every path his mind wandered down brought him back to Bill. And he didn’t want to think of him right now because that meant questioning everything he’d assumed about himself from day one. Questioning things terrified him. Change terrified him. He tapped rhythmically against his leg, inadvertently drawing Emma’s attention.

“Hey, you okay? Listen, sorry if I pushed too much, I just—”

“No, no… It’s not you.” He sighed. “I just.” He gestured wildly. “Thoughts. Everywhere. You know?”

“Yeah, no, I get that. The whole fearing for your life thing fucks with your head, drags up stuff you thought you’d shoved down deep enough for it to never get out.” She pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Like… I don’t know, Guatemala. Fucking earthquake, right? And I ended up volunteering with relief crews because I wasn’t hurt. And I don’t know, it just… I realized I could die at any time. And if I was gonna die, I wanted to go out as myself, you know? Not hide stupid shit because I couldn’t accept myself. So I texted an old high school friend and came out as bisexual. And it was a weight off my shoulders, I guess.”

They sat in silence, Paul mulling over her words. Something about… going out as himself. It stuck with him.

“I think I’m gay.”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay?”

“Yeah.” Emma flashed him a smile. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“It’s nice to just… say it.” He smiled back. “I’m gay.”

“Hell yeah, you are! Now… what are you gonna do about it?”

“I—” Was he going to tell Bill? Should he? _Could_ he? “I don’t know yet.”

“He’ll accept you. I can tell. Even if he isn’t… he’s not going to shut you out.”

Paul nodded vacantly, still lost in his thoughts. He managed a weak, “Yeah, probably.”

“Hey,” she whispered, taking his hand. “I’m here if you need me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

* * *

Paul thought he was ready to tell Bill. He really did. And when they sat down in the kitchen for coffee the next morning, long after everyone else had eaten, he was already steeling himself for the conversation. But Bill took a sip of coffee and dumped another sugar packet in with a sigh.

“She’s still torn up about Deb,” he said, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. “She won’t say it, but I can tell. And I don’t know what to do.” He balled up the empty sugar packet between his fingers. “I still think Deb is bad for her, and I want to support her so badly—”

“You’ve done so much for her, Bill, you can’t tear yourself up over Deb.”

“I want to like her, I do!” he pressed on, ignoring Paul. Or maybe just disregarding his input. Was there a difference? He couldn’t really tell. “I want to be a good dad for Alice.”

“You _are._ ”

“It’s more than that! I—I want to be a good dad the way _I_ needed, and support her unconditionally. But Deb is… if she were a guy, I’d feel the same way, I _know_ I would. But she thinks I don’t accept her, and I do! I want her to feel accepted because… because I needed that when I was her age, and I never got it.” He stared pointedly at the table. “But I don’t know how to tell her that.”

_Oh shit. Oh shit, did he—? He just… Okay, okay, breathe. This is fine. He trusts you with this, don’t fuck it up._

“Just tell her. She’ll accept you. We both know that. And she’ll understand your reasoning better. You just have to take that first step.”

_Hypocrite._

“Thanks, Paul. But, uh, how do you know so much about this?”

_Tell him, tell him, TELL HIM!_

“I—uh…”

“I guess it doesn’t matter in the long run, does it? You’re right.” He drained the last of his coffee. “I need to tell her. And I need to do it now before I get in my own head about it.” He stood up. “Thanks, Paul.”

And maybe the fear of never having the guts to tell him snapped him out of it. Or maybe it was the realization that he could be dead tomorrow. But whatever it was, Paul stood up, barely noticing that he slammed his hands against the table.

“Wait!”

Bill turned around, eyes wide, and reached out to put a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes, but I… I need to tell you. Before I back out. Because, uh, Emma and I were talking about this, and if we die soon, I don’t want to go out… lying to myself, I guess? And I know if I don’t tell someone now, I’m never going to—”

“Paul.” Bill stepped closer and moved his hand down, squeezing his arm lightly. “Whatever it is, you can just tell me.”

Paul nodded, swallowed, and took a breath.

“I’m… gay. And I think I’ve known for a while, but I shoved it down because I was scared. And for a while, that was good enough. But then I saw you after we got back, and you were holding onto Alice and wouldn’t let go, and It all just came bubbling back up, and I was so scared because we’ve always been so close and I don’t…” He trailed off, feeling tears prick at his eyes. Bill put his other hand on Paul’s arm. “I don’t want to fuck this up, Bill. And I don’t want to lose you.” A tear rolled down his face, but before he could reach up, Bill wiped it away.

“You’re not going to lose me, Paul. I’m right here. I’m still right here, okay?” He could hear Bill, but he sounded far away. He couldn’t breathe, everything was too much, there was _too much._

He shook off Bill’s hands and curled into himself, sitting back down. He could feel himself talking, whispering, but he couldn’t tell what he was saying until he was almost screaming, an endless stream of “Shut up, shut up, _shut up, SHUT UP!”_ He broke off with a shuddering sob. Distantly, he heard someone whispering. Or were they whispering? Maybe he just couldn’t hear. If everything weren’t so _loud,_ so _bright…_

“Paul? Can you focus on me?” Paul jerked away when Bill reached out a hand. Somehow, he’d fallen to the floor, Bill kneeling in front of him. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. Can you focus on my voice?” Paul nodded slowly. “Good, good. You’re doing so good, Paul, just focus on me. Can you breathe with me?” Another nod. “Good. You remember how we did it last time. In for four seconds, okay? Do it with me.” Paul tried to follow Bill, but he gasped and choked on air. Bill shushed him gently. “It’s okay. You’re doing so good. Let’s try again. In for four with me…”

Bill talked him through quietly, and when everything was better, less hectic, he pulled Paul into a hug, letting him sob against his chest. Someone else, _everyone_ else was talking, hushed and worried, but Paul couldn’t care less. After what felt like ages, he pulled away.

“Are you going to be okay?” Bill whispered.

“I think so.”

“Do you need anything?”

“You never answered me. You don’t have to feel anything, I just… tell me. Please.”

Bill let out a little sigh and put his hand on Paul’s arm again. He flinched but didn’t pull away. This was good, this was progress. He can’t tell if it’s comforting or pitying, but it’s _something._

“I like you a lot, Paul. And I think you were the person that made me realize it’s okay to… yeah. Because I would look at you and think, ‘How can this be wrong?’ But I was too scared to tell you. I was scared to lose you, too.”

“I’m right here,” Paul parroted back. “I’m not leaving.”

“Good. Neither am I.”

Paul glanced around. At some point, everyone had left, leaving them alone in the kitchen again.

“Can I ask you something stupid?” Paul whispered.

“No stupid questions.”

“Can you kiss me?” Bill squeezed his arm, eyes wide. “You don’t have to if you don’t want! I just thought—”

“I’d love to. I just… after all this... Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Paul pulled Bill’s other hand toward him, settling them both on his waist. “So, are you going to…?”

Bill leaned in slowly, giving Paul time to pull away, to change his mind, but he leaned in as well, closing the gap. Bill’s lips were soft. _Really_ soft, and his hands grabbed his waist firmly, pulling him in closer. He’d been waiting for this for years, but he didn’t expect it to feel so _good._

Bill pulled away—far too early. in Paul’s opinion—out of breath and smiling like a dork. Not that Paul could talk, as he was certain his face was bright red, his lips parted in shock. When he didn’t say anything, Bill’s smile faltered.

“Was that… good?”

“Yeah, that was… wow. Just, uh… kiss me again. Please.”

“Okay.” Bill leaned in again, their lips meeting, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Paul decided that the apocalypse wasn’t allowed to touch them anymore. This is what he wanted. This, _this,_ was something worth living for.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I love Batthews?
> 
> Also, in case you're wondering how this all works, Bill and Paul make it to Alice before she gets infected. Since they don't have to sit through a musical number, Paul never gets knocked out, and MacNamara never gets to do his lecture, they make it back long before Hidgens even gets close to tying Emma and Ted up. Ergo, Emma, and everyone else (minus Sam and Charlotte), is fine.
> 
> Remember to drop kudos/a comment if you enjoyed. <3
> 
> Tumblr: makethestorylast   
> Instagram: makethestorylast


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